I bought a Marlboro Red Soda, took two drags off a cigarette, and headed into the hot-house. They called em hot-houses because when you Jacked in you had no feeling in your body. So there was no need to turn on the air conditioner, and the heat from the thousands of bodies, combined with exhausts from the mainframes made them feel like a turkish bath meets an armpit.
I felt a little shock in my eye; I hadn’t spit it out my Nicorette gum, but screw it. Peanut butter gets gum out of your hair.
Today was the final hack that would get me all the way into R.J Reynolds Super-bank Mainframe. I was trying to slip by under the guise of talking to my girlfriend of three years who was somewhere in the same Hothouse.
Agents patrolled the hothouse looking for Carnivores hacker alert signs. The program made your body sob so the agents could find you, balling your eyes out in the hot-house.
I couldn’t hear her telling them that she was crying because she got dumped, because I was already in the super-bank.